The Tales of the Wanderer and Her Several Companions
by Button Masher Pot Smasher
Summary: In the aftermath of her quest, one young hero finds herself drawn away from her homeland.
1. Chapter 1

This is my little writing experiment in character and setting development; it'll be a series of (probably) short vignettes. Bits of things will be revealed as we go along, but if anything is especially unclear feel free to ask. So, without further ado, enjoy!

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1

In Which Danger is (not) Confronted

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Ava waited at the edge of the hummock, laying flat to keep her profile low. Darien, who had the best aim with a sling, was next to her. The weather was chill, cloudy, and unpleasant in every way. It was ready to rain, perhaps even thunderstorm with the way Darien's hair was frizzing. Dampness bled through her clothes from the grass, and she allowed herself a slight shiver. It was unbelievable they were even here; only the craziest, most bone-headed traveler—

A Roc's call. The signal.

Raising herself to a crouch, Ava barely poked her head above the top of the grass. She snorted quietly with disbelief. There was, in fact, a single person headed their way. And _on foot_, no less. They'd found a real catch this time. It was a wonder whoever it was was still alive.

As the figure approached, Ava began to make out a few details. It was a young woman, medium build. Hylian, probably. Interesting, not too many of those this far out. She wore a simple belted elbow-length shirt, and pants tucked into a pair of worn boots; she carried few possessions. All-in-all, unthreatening. Probably not worth it.

...Except, of course, for the _massive _sword she carried on her back, alongside an oblong wrapped bundle. The sword—was that a _Zweihander_?— meant danger, perhaps too much; but the bundle might mean a score. She grunted dissatisfactorily.

"What is it?" Darien whispered.

"Just a girl. She's got a big black sword though. Could mean trouble. We'll see if we get the go ahead."

Just as the words left her mouth, a second Roc's call sounded through the grass. There it was. Ava mentally recited a short prayer to the Gods and tensed her body, readying herself. She counted to twenty after the traveler passed the boulders a ways to the east, and then slowly rose to her feet. Simultaneously, ten others emerged from the grass, each brandishing their weapon; the traveler was surrounded. All in all, it made a menacing sight.

The girl didn't stop. She glanced sidelong at the men around her and continued walking, albeit a little slower.

Grach, the leader, stepped forward, holding his broadsword in front of him. The girl didn't stop.

"Look." He cleared his throat roughly. "I'm not one for that 'easy way or hard way' kind of nonsense. If you allow us the pleasure of relievin' you of your trinkets, we'll let you pass with your throat intact. Sound _fair_?" He planted the point of his sword in the ground to punctuate the last word.

The girl slowed further, an uncertain look on her face. She stared at Grach straight in the eyes, and then appeared to relax visibly. She shrugged…

...And took off sprinting at full speed.

The group was surprised enough that she was easily able to pass through the circle. No one moved for several seconds, staring slackjawed at her receding form.

"Bloody _coward,_" Grach cursed. "What are you lot doing? After 'er!"

The circle broke rapidly as they began the chase.

* * *

Kalinka slowed to a fast jog and began to unstrap Shadow from her back. Fortunately, the bandits seemed unused enough to tactical retreat that she wouldn't actually need to fight. Then again, no one ever seemed used to tactical retreat. It was a much finer tactic than anyone gave credit for. She pointed the sword in front of her and began to mutter under her breath.

_Some big hero you are_, the voice in her head had to comment, _what is that, the third time this week?_

_Oh stuff it, you_, she replied, _I need to focus, big help you are. It's not like you aren't used to this, anyway._

There was a snort and a snicker, but no further comments were made. Just as well—she was nearing the most difficult portion of the spell. The blade of her sword was glowing with blue-green light, and the bandits were beginning to gain on her.

She yelled the last word of the spell and threw herself bodily forward. It had been hastily constructed, but she was improving, and it would serve well enough. There was a flash, and her stomach dropped out from under her. She hit the ground hard, rolling through the grass for several seconds. It only took a second or two to clamber back to her feet and begin jogging again. She glanced behind herself—and then did a double take. Chuckling, she slowed to a walk again, and began to catch her breath.

"Oh, this is _so _much better than last time."

* * *

Ava had stopped completely, staring slack-jawed at the empty space where the running girl had been a second before. Where…? How…?

One of the sharper-eyed scouts gave a shout, and pointed toward the horizon. She turned her gaze toward where he indicated.

There, at least a mile out, a small dark figure moved at a leisurely pace through the grassland. Everyone in the group ground to a halt and glanced toward Grach. He was, predictably, infuriated. Face red, eyes bulging, he threw his sword to the ground disgustedly.

"_One_ girl. One measly, weak, insignificant—" ...Would he order a chase? Gods, please, no, let him not order a chase. For the love of everything let there not be a chase.

Thunder boomed from behind them, and a few drops of drizzle fell from the sky. Grach's shoulders slumped.

It appeared that would be the end of it.

Ava stared at the figure in the distance, now barely visible, and shrugged.

"Nice trick," she offered.


	2. Chapter 2

One of my favorite ideas I've had for this universe is introduced in this chapter. As well as a few other hints and whatnot.

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2

In Which Discomfort Occurs

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The canyonlands stretched for miles and miles, and were a hassle to cross. They were a maze, to put it simply, and were subject to unforgiving heat and sun. To the west, however, was an unforgiving desert. To the east, somewhere Kalinka put her best effort into avoiding.

Fortunately, the vast crevices and towering walls were not uninhabited; once could find easier passage if they knew where to look.

The wind caught and played with Kalinka's hair, and stung her eyes. She kept a tight grip on the waist of the woman in front of her, and did her best to avoid looking down. Gliding easily through the air, the Roc took a wide, sweeping arc to catch a thermal. The woman leveled the animal off and pointed at a structure below them.

"You see that? The statue?"

Kalinka swallowed, and leaned over slightly so she could see down. Carved into a wide rocky spire was a well-endowed woman with her hands spread, seemingly deep in meditation. It had been worn and smoothed over by time and wind, but the features were still recognizable. She gulped and mumbled her affirmation. It was interesting, but she was too queasy to inspect further.

"She's called the Goddess of the Sand," the pilot explained. "This whole area used to be desert, apparently. Legend says the Three cleft the land into pieces to punish its people for committing a great evil. But the Sand Goddess took pity, and sent the Rocs to allow us to travel freely. This though… look at it! Don't you think it's far better than a desert? Some punishment _that_ turned out to be…"

While the landscape was indeed beautiful (especially at sunset, which was fast approaching) Kalinka was too busy attempting to quell her unsettled stomach to pay much attention. She needed a way to take her mind off the thought of falling.

"Who carved the statue?" She asked. Don't hurl, don't hurl, don't hurl…

"Who knows?" The woman replied. She teased her bright red braid thoughtfully in one hand. "There's a whole temple in there where the tribes gather once a year. The architecture's beautiful, and there's _yet another_ statue inside. Though it's not as big and impressive." She yawned. "The birds like to rest on it—maybe the Goddess herself built the place."

_How long until we land?_ The voice complained, _I feel… _it abruptly stopped talking as they suddenly dropped several feet.

_We're in the same boat, _ Kalinka grumbled, _Deal with it. You're stuck with me._ She shifted the shoulder where Shadow hung. They had been flying for nearly the whole day, and with any luck, she could put the canyons behind her by that evening. Her guide was friendly and talkative, and flew steadily enough, but parts of the experience were… undesirable. Being attacked by a mob of crows was _not _something anyone wanted to go through twice. Or once. Or at all, ever.

Just then, another one flapped noisily toward them and gave a loud _caw_.

"We must be going over nests!" The guide said cheerfully, "That's why they keep following us!"

Kalinka groaned, and readied her sling. By the Three, this had better be the _last_ time...


	3. Chapter 3

3

In Which Bad Dreams Occur

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She stared straight into the point of a short sword. Unfortunately, it was quite possibly the _longest_ short sword she had ever seen. It was...longer than she was tall. Calling it (or its partner) "short" made no sense whatsoever—unless one considered the sheer size of the _wielder_.

Standing at over 10 feet tall, the King of Evil was a sight that could make grown men scurry away like mice. Even with the pig nose. And the funny way his stomach stuck out. And the way his head was _far_ too small for his bo—

The sword struck her hard, straight into the abdomen, and tore through the other side. A burning filled her body, and her mind whited out as she collapsed, writhing, to the ground, the cold blade still wearing her as a sheath. She would have screamed with pain, but neither of her lungs seemed to be working properly—she breathed red, thick air, and every contraction of her diaphragm made more spill from her lips and catch in her throat and pool on the ground next to her head and...and…

Her vision was turning red and black. Her mind was turning away from the pain, anything to get away from the pain... to hopelessness. Failure. What had the odds been? Wasn't she a hero? Wasn't she supposed to succeed, no matter the odds? What about destiny? Yes, what about destiny? This was _it_, wasn't it? Or was it? What would happen now...oh goddesses let this end, let this not end, was there a chance is there a chance please let me continue let me _die_

Kalinka woke up on her side, still writhing and unable to breathe. Her hands were wrapped around the long bundle with a white-knuckle grip. Was this death? This couldn't be it. She had to go back. To keep fighting. Something was wrapped around her, constricting her. She began to thrash wildly to try to escape.

The back of her head made contact with something small, hard, and painful. Instantly, her mind cleared.

She was somewhere on the plains of Calatia. Fairly near the Aruan border. It was late into the night; the stars spilled across the sky, heralding the moon, which hung, swollen and yellow, against the horizon. She was almost completely entangled with her bedding, and had sweat almost all the way through the blankets. Goddesses knew where her travel pillow was. Short, scrubby grass pressed against her head.

Kalinka took a deep breath. Slowly, one by one, she relaxed her tense muscles and released her grip on the bundle. Extracting herself from the blankets, she sat up in a cross-legged position and tossed the bundle several feet away, her hands shaking.

It had been a month since the last one. She had been foolish, to think it could be over. Of course, that hadn't been her death, and it hadn't been her Ganondorf. But it might as well have been.

During her...journey, the dreams had plagued her constantly. Night after night, dreams of fighting, of death, red and green and painful and raw. They usually ended better, of course, but that one in particular repeated constantly. Was it a warning? A reminder? She had no idea. If the goddesses wanted to send her a message, they should find her a way to do so less painfully. And more _clearly._

_Been a while,_ the voice commented, _you should tell me what gets you so riled up in your sleep. It looks like fun. _It laughed.

Kalinka turned to her left. There, lying innocently on the ground, was her sword. Shadow's pommel had been right there to give her a rude awakening and a nasty bruise. Lucky. She touched the back of her head gingerly.

With a sigh, she flopped back onto her side and pulled the blade towards her, gripping the hilt as she lay in the blankets. Slowly, carefully, she began to drift toward sleep once more.

_Hey, _she thought drowsily, _thanks. _

There was no reply. Her rest was dark and dreamless.


End file.
